Control
by AndThenBurnTheAshes
Summary: What can you do when they try to control you...a drabble-fic that grew into something more. TRIGGER WARNING: there is self-harm, suicide, murder, mentions of rape, generally BAD STUFF in here!
1. Cut

This is the new version of the first chapter that I had posted for this. The first version was extremely bad, so I will be updating all the chapters that I believe need to be changed. Hope you enjoy.

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"Ow..." he hissed as the knife cut through his wrist again. Blood dripped to the white-tiled floor, speckling the ground with red. His knees began trembling again, but he quickly caught himself.

A ninja must not show weakness. He knew that.

And that included tears as well. Hastily, he swiped away the tears that threated to overflow from his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. He's not going to cry.

"I'm _not _going to...ugh..." he moaned in agony as the knife cut even deeper, sawing down hard on the tendons and bone so that there maybe, possibly, _hopefully _be a scar.

If there wasn't a scar, then how would anybody believe that he was sorry? Sorry for carrying a monster, sorry for being a failure, sorry for being a constant reminder of that horrible day, sixteen years ago, when the monster sealed in his body was let loose on his village. He was at fault for the monster still being around.

If he hadn't been born that day, then the monster would be elsewhere, everyone would be happy, and nobody would have to constantly watch over him.

Like they were now. Several ANBU had been assigned to watch over him, so he "wouldn't hurt himself."

But how could he hurt himself if the scars kept healing?

He could keep cutting and sawing and ripping and tearing at his skin, but the creature sealed inside of him wouldn't let him die, because if he died, the creature would die as well. Already, the cuts that he had made were glowing and healing up, the blood flow slowing and already stopped on some of them.

Gritting his teeth, he moved the bloody knife up to his cheeks. Positioning it carefully, he began to carve into his cheeks, right where the whisker-like markings of the fox already were. A high pitched moan escaped from his throat, and he heard the door behind him slammed open, the knife yanked away from him not a second later. He collapsed, more blood dripping onto the puddle already on the floor.

"Fucking kid. Why does he do this?!" he jerked himself away from the ANBU that had caught him, almost slipping in the blood on the floor as he tried to flee, instead being tackled to the floor, screaming in agony as his slit wrists were roughly grabbed.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" and he broke down sobbing as the ANBU watching in silence as the child, the chosen one of their village, the one who was supposed to save them all, wept on the floor as the blood that continued to trickle out of his wounds joined with the puddle to create a macabre picture of pain and sadness.


	2. Run

Here is the updated version of the second chapter of Control. Hope you like it.

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Twigs and branches snapped under his feet as he sprinted through the woods, his heart pounding in his chest so hard that he was sure that _he _would hear it.

If _he _heard it, he was sure to die.

Slowing down and stopping next to a tree, he bent over with his hands on his knees, taking a quick look all around him before he took off running again, knowing that if he stopped for too long, he would surely be caught.

And if he was caught, he would die.

He gasped as a kunai whipped past his head, lodging itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. He instinctively ducked and heard the _thock thock thock _of three more lodging into another branch.

_He _was getting close.

Wheezing, he continued running, but kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure that _he _wasn't behind him. Looking forward again, he had less than a second to focus before he slammed into something almost as hard a tree, but not quite.

Something..._human._

He was knocked onto his back, and whoever he had slammed into immediately latched their hands onto his throat, lifting him up to their face. He coughed and feebly clutched at the huge hands that gripped at his neck, closing his eyes so he wouldn't see the face of _him._

"Open your eyes, otouto. " he frantically shook his head no, and then opened them wide as he screamed, the kunai that his brother held digging itself into his spine. He heard his brother chuckle.

"That's better. I want to see that look of despair in your eyes as you realize that your kind older brother will be the one to kill you here." the face in front of him began blurring, and he felt himself losing consciousness. With his last breath of air in his lungs, he managed to gasp out two words:

"Why, Aniki?" he felt the fingers at his throat loosen slightly before they locked on fiercely.

"Why, foolish little brother, I believe you already know the answer: I do what I want. That's all there is to it. Now, say hello to tou-san and kaa-san for Aniki, okay?" and the fingers tightened unmercifully until a loud crack rang out through the clearing, the younger boy's head flopping to the side like a rag doll's.

Sighing, the elder boy wiped his hands on his little brother's shirt before taking off for the village.

He still needed to deal with the Hokage.

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Yes, I shot the canon. Why? Because it's fucking fun.


	3. Mirror

She lifts her head from where it rests on the sink, looking at herself in the cracked and stained mirror, wishing that she could be _anybody _but herself, hating the fact that the only things anybody every remembers about her is her unnatural hair and ridiculous forehead, _knowing _that all the other kids feel lucky when they see her, relieved to know that they wouldn't be the ones to get picked on that day, because the bullies would be so busy picking on her that they won't have enough time for anyone else. Suddenly, she giggles, because she knows a way that everyone will remember her, and no one will everever_ever _forget her_, _because now she has the small pills in her hand that look like candy but taste like rotten fruit, and as her vision suddenly becomes blurry she glances back into the mirror and she finally sees that a piece of glass had been sticking out of the mirror the whole time and maybe if she pushes it back into place she could see what she really looks like with the glass in the right place and-

()()()()()()()()()

...I really had no excuse for that. I apologize profusely for anyone who hates me right now. I am planning on putting a trigger warning up at the beginning, so don't bitch to me about it.


	4. Perfect

"Such a perfect child" is all he ever hears, the words constantly surrounding him _every goddamn day _until he can't escape it, can't free himself from the words and voices that he constantlyconstantly_constantly _hears until he is ready to scream from rageandangerandfrustration because _no one will listen to him _when he says that he needs to take a break, that he needs to stop and rest, because "Oh, he doesn't need a break, when does he ever need a break," and the worst part is that _he can't do anything about it, _because his Father is in charge of him, his Father decides what he does and does not do, because he is his Perfect Son, the one that ascended so quickly to the top of the class, the one that everyone simply loves and adores and envies. But no one would expect the Perfect Son to slip and fall over the edge of the waterfall, hitting his head on the way down, dead before he hits the bottom, blood creating a thin layer over the top of the water, screams and wails echoing throughout the village when his body was finally found, bloated from the water, bits of his flesh nibbled off from the fish, his little brother vomiting from the sight when he accidentally caught sight of it.

Well, it's a good thing he has perfect balance.

Right?

Righ-


	5. Thin

She wearily lifts her head up from the toilet, wincing in disgust as the smell of her vomit reached her nose, making her want to throw up but she can'tcan't_can't _because there is nothing in her stomach left to throw up, and anyway, _he _doesn't like girls that smell like vomit and are fat and ugly and-

She retched again, but nothing comes out, and for once she is _happy _because she did something right for once, giving up on food and drink and everything, and she will _gladly _do it again because she wants him to notice her, she wants him to think her pretty and she wants him to stop looking at the stupid slut on his team, the one who seems to be getting all his attention, the attention that belongs to _her and her alone._

Looking up at the mirror, she suddenly sobs in disgust at the fatfat_fat _that seems to be hanging off of her, and it's not pretty for a girl to have so much _fat _on her so she needs to stop eating and make sure that nothing else passes her lips or else _he _might see her and look away in disgust _again _and she couldn't _bear _to see him look at the pink-haired slut like she was prettyandbeautifuland_everythingsheshouldbe _because she is morepretty and morebeautiful than she _ever will be _and the only way she could ever catch his attention is to-

()()()()()()()()()

...Why did I even write this one. I don't even know how this popped into my head.

...Anorexia and bulimia are bad things. I'm coming from personal experience here. Don't do it.


	6. Giggle

He loves the Pretty Girl. That's all she knows. He loves the Pretty Girl, and she loves him and the Pretty Girl loves another boy, but He always ignores her and instead chases after the Pretty Girl, the one who always laughs in His face when he tries to get close to her, the one who always chases after the other boy like a lovesick _bitch _and it'shardit'shardit's_hard _to see Him look so disappointed when the Pretty Girl runs away from him, and she is alwaysalways_always _there when he does get rejected, but he never notices her and every time he looks at her it's like he's looking right through her because if he actually _saw _her he would know how she felt, and it wouldn't have come down to this...

Kissing His cheek softly, she let his body lean on her as she continues to read her book, happily humming all the while, ignoring the pages of her book slowly turning red from the blood that continues to weep out of his cut throat. Giggling, she looks to the sky, wondering why she hadn't thought of this sooner.

Oh well.

At least she could spend the rest of her life together with him.

()()()()()()()()()

O.O ...I don't know where I came up with that, but you have to admit, nobody really knows what's running about through that head of hers, am I right?


	7. Smart

Lazy. Stupid. Uncaring. Those are all words that people use to describe him, words that are used within earshot of him, because they all think that he is too stupid and doesn't care at all how people think of him. They think that they can just say something like that and get away with it because _he doesn't care _about what people think of him, you doesn't give a damn that he is disappointing his parents and family and ancestors and he won't get anywhere in life because he is too busy staring at those _goddamn clouds_ to care about what will happen to him later in life.

Or, at least, that's what _they _all think.

They don't think he would ever be the one smart enough to figure out how to rig a power line so that the next time someone leans against it, the whole thing will come down, crashing into the water tower and knocking it over, immediately shocking those within a mile of it, starting hundreds of small fires that will eventually turn into one large inferno of heat and death. They don't think he would ever stand on top of the Hokage mountain, a small smile on his face as your hear the screams and wails of everyone being burnt to a crisp, not giving a damn when he sees his own parents knocked to the ground and immediately being swallowed up by the flames.

Because he wouldn't do that.

Right?


	8. Fair

Fat. That's all anybody ever sees of him, all that passes through their heads. They don't see the supposed sweet inside that he has, or the kind heart that his father insists that he has, but he doesn't believe him, because if he really _does _have a kind heart, then why does he want everyone to die? Why does he want everyone to screamandbleedandsuffer and hurt like he has all his life? Why does he want everyone to feel the same pain that he has, to know the feeling of being sheltered behind lies all his life until he got old enough to climb over, but once he did he saw how people really were, how disgustingandcruelandsickening they were, but he couldn't climb back over the wall of lies, back to safety, because he was too fat, too stupid to make it back? The only thing he can do is listen to their whispers and jeers and taunts, hear his "friends" start to insult him, but are stopped by his teacher because they don't want _his precious feelings hurt. _

So why doesn't he do it? Make them all screamandbleedandsuffer like he has, make them hurt like he has, make them go through the agonies and hell he has? He has the knife in his hands, he can do it, nothing is stopping him, no one _can _stop him from doing this.

After all, it's only fair, isn't it?


	9. Invisible

People seem to look right through him, almost as if he isn't really there at all, like he is a window and they are trying to see through to what is on the other side of him, not caring about the window itself.

But that's the way he likes it. He _likes _not having to deal with all those people like everyone else has to, he _likes _just stepping back and watching the fireworks, not caring if anyone will ever see him, because, even if they do, they are bound to forget about him soon enough.

He tends to have that effect on people.

But sometimes he wonders what it would be like to have someone actually notice him, someone actually come up and _talk to him, _not just look around him for their friends or someone else. He wonders what it would feel like for someone to actually remember him for once, someone actually take notice of him and actually respond to something he says.

So tonight, while the loud dog-boy and shy girl are all sleeping, he will set up for a night that _no one _will _ever _forget.

Smiling to himself, he thinks out loud, surprised when his voice cracks from lack of use.

"The fireworks will be lovely tonight, won't they?"


	10. Righteous

He wants to be more than just "that-boy-with-a-dog." He wants to be thought of as a great shinobi, someone who could quite possibly become Hokage someday, someone who can fight _without _a dog.

He doesn't want his dog to control his life. Every time he goes out somewhere, whether to the market or to the training grounds, if his dog isn't with him, the first thing _anybody _will say to you is "Hey, where's your dog?"

They don't give a damn about him, the dogs are the special ones, the ones that can smell better and hunt better and run faster than he can, the only ones that seem worthy of appreciation.

But he wants to be appreciated. He wants someone to say "Oh, good job!" to him and to him _alone, _not "Oh, you and your dog did a good job!" He wants somebody to recognize _him.__  
_

So that's why he is doing this. That's why he is slipping a little bit of wolfsbane into the dogs' water tonight. He isn't doing this just for himself. His whole family has been overshadowed by their dogs. He's doing this to _help _everyone else as well.

After all, the dogs should be controlled by their masters, not the other way around, right?

Then this is righteous.


	11. Quiet

Every time. Every goddamn time he tries to go out on a mission. It starts out well, the two boys ignoring each other at first, the blonde trying to get the attention of the pink-haired girl, who in turn is trying to get the attention of the raven-headed boy, who ignores everyone. It goes fine, until the blonde idiot ignites the wrath of the black-haired boy, which in turn causes the girl to get mad at him.

And the _noise _that they make.

He can't _stand _the noise. He's always hated it, always tried to get them to be quiet whenever they get particularly loud. The blonde always ignores him, however, and instead becomes even louder and louder, which causes the other two to join in, and then…

Then it all falls to shit.

Well, usually.

This time was different.

Their task was no different than any other, just a simple mission to deliver a few scrolls to another village a few miles away. He insisted that everyone else carries the scrolls, so that he could defend them if someone else were to attack.

They agreed, not believing that the one to attack them would be their own teacher.

None of them saw it coming, not the girl, whose scream of fear was cut short when her throat was ripped out, not the blonde boy, who had roared in anger when he saw the girl fall, only to fall himself when a clone of his had appeared out of nowhere and stabbed him in the spine.

The raven-haired boy was the only one he left, standing in a pool of his teammates' blood, staring in shock at his retreating back. He would most likely have nightmares for the rest of his life.

He doesn't care, though.

It was finally quiet.


	12. Scream

No one notices her.

Most of the time, that is. Usually, the only ones to notice her are her sensei and his student, the one who copies their sensei down to the thumbs-ups and bright smiles.

And _him. _

The one who she had fallen in love with so many years ago. The one who she had a secret heart attack over when she found out that she was to be placed on the same team as he.

The one who breaks into her bedroom every night, no matter how many bolts and locks she places on all the windows and doors.

The one who holds her down every night, panting into her ear, _tearing her apart, _making her his. The first time he snuck in, she thought he wanted to train with her again.

She is usually the only person he will ever train with.

She couldn't even manage to get to one of her weapon scrolls when he first pinned her down that night. She was so scared, but she couldn't even scream out and alert her parents, who were in the room next door to yours.

The next morning, everyone asked her why she was walking so funny.

_He _was there, though, giving her that look that said I Will Rape You OverandOverand_Over _Again If You Say Something.

So she just grinned and looked apologetic and laughed it off, saying that she was clumsy during training yesterday and she got bruises on her legs and nonono she doesn't need someone to check it out, because she'll be _perfectly fine _on her own.

That was three years ago, and he still comes every night.

But she loves him so much.

And she can't bear to scream.


	13. Tell

Everyone notices him.

Most of the time, that is. Everyone notices him, his uncle and all the other members of the clan, the girl he is supposed to protect with everything he has, the village idiot, even the supposed _genius _of the Uchiha clan. All of them notice him.

Except _her. _

The one whom he always thought a little strange, carrying about that huge scroll that concealed hundreds of different weapons, each one of them more deadly than the last. The one who looked like she was going to _die _when it was announced that he would be on the same team as she. The one he trained with, dayafterdayafter_day, _until he realized that she would _never _acknowledge him, she would _never _give him the respect you want, she would _never _reacquite the feelings that he has for her.

The one whose bedroom he sneaks into, night after night, no matter how hard she tries to keep him out.

The one who he holds down every night, who keeps quiet, even as he does his best to get her to scream.

She is the only one he will ever train with, the only one he _has _ever trained with.

The first night, he had broken the window and covered her mouth, not even giving her the chance to scream or defend herself.

The next morning, everyone was asking her what was wrong, because she was limping and could barely stand up straight. He had caught her eyes, then, and gave her the opportunity to speak up, to tell someone, _anyone, _that he had raped her.

He gave her a chance she did not take. She chose to laugh and wave it off, blaming it on the training from yesterday, insisting that she didn't need to see someone, because she would be _perfectly fine _on her own.

That was three years ago, and he still goes every night.

He hates himself so much.

But he can't bear to tell.


	14. Goal

He's weird. He knows that. Everyone says it.

Or, at least, they all think it.

Most of the time they say it to his face, deciding to be nice enough and insult him without hiding and covering their mouths while glancing his way, giggling sometimes when someone says something particularly witty.

He doesn't care, though.

He just keeps training and setting ridiculous goals for himself, promising that "If I don't win this match against him, I'll run around the village ten, no _twenty _times!

And then he loses the match, and earns himself a hospital bed and the express forbidding to even sit up without assistance.

Every time.

Every time he tries to do something, something that someone will notice and praise him for, instead of teasing and mocking him for his huge brows and his complete devotion to his sensei, the only one who has ever taken notice of him.

And they continue to mock him, calling him 'caterpillar-brows' and 'freak' and 'worthless.'

He doesn't care, though.

He just keeps training and setting ridiculous goals for himself, promising that "If I can't protect her during this battle, then I'll do a thousand, no, _ten-thousand _pushups in a row!"

And then he fails to protect the one girl he likes, and earns himself the dangerous operation that may end up with him never being a ninja again.

He is doing his best, but _they still keep mocking him._

Every time.

And this time, he _does _care.

He sets another goal for himself.

"If I can't ever be a ninja again, I'll kill myself."

Two days later, the operation fails, and he is told that he is not allowed to walk without assistance, let alone run.

But somehow, he manages to slip away in the dead of the night, nobody noticing his empty bed until the next morning, when it's too late.

His body was found hanging from a tree in the middle of the Forest of Death.

Well, at least nobody is making fun of him anymore.


	15. Habit

He has a habit.

It's a disgusting habit, and he knows it. But somehow, for some reason, he can't do anything about it. All he knows is that if he sees one of _them, _he _has _to have them.

He doesn't care how old they are (although he likes a little bit of rebellion in them), he doesn't care what gender they are (although he does know the male body a lot better), he doesn't care where or how he gets them.

All he knows is that he _needs _them.

And that is why he is here in front of this boy, smirking with glee at his accomplishment. The boy was surprisingly easy to tempt, only needing a little push to come with him willing.

The boy never saw the needle jab into his neck.

And now he has a new pet.

The boy is led to his private chambers, where he is forced to strip and sit, to await his new master.

He stepped into the room, the boy's eyes warily following him when he pulls off his own clothes, the mouth opening to scream out loud when he suddenly flipped him over and pressed himself against the boy's naked backside, groaning when the tight heat suddenly enveloped him.

A choking noise sounds from the boy's throat, who wants to screamandscreamand_scream _because he's being _torn apart, _but it _hurts too much _to even breath, so he simply holds his breath and lets his body be jolted around and torn up and _ripped apart _as the older man groans and finishes up inside of him.

Two years later and the boy is still sitting on the floor of his master's bedroom every night, waiting to be taken like usual. The fire that once burn brightly in his eyes has been extinguished, leaving eyes that are dull and glassy, no life left to see.

And yet, his master has been growing bored of him. The boy has stopped struggling, instead letting his master do whatever he so wishes to do to him.

It's no fun anymore.

Well, he does know that the teenager in front of him has a younger brother. Maybe this habit of his could lead to something good.

()()()()()()()()()

Crappy ending is crappy.


	16. Punishment

He is his companion. He is the one he follows around everywhere, not caring if it seems strange that he is following someone who is essentially a _child _to him.

He is his angel, the one who can disappear in the night without as much as a whisper to announce his departure. He has the body of an angel as well, lithe but strong, pale skin and raven-black hair.

He is his devil. He is the one who's eyes burn red in the dark, a beacon of light that is the last thing his enemies ever see. His voice…his voice speaks of sin and lust and moans that echo well into the night.

He is his enemy. He is the one that mocks him with his very existence, the one who made a fool out of him when they first met, pointing out that the only reason he was here was because he had gotten lost and had just so happened to stumble upon the organization.

He is his most hated person, the one who never lets anyone help him, even when you _know _that he is in _so much pain _but he is just…so…

_Stubborn._

Yes. That's the word you would us to describe him. Stubborn. Childish. Bratty.

So that's why you have to teach him a lesson.

Even if (_when!_) he begs for mercy, you have to stay strong and show him how naughty he's been, how he can't keep acting like this because something bad bad _bad _will happen to him because he's been a bad boy and bad boy's get punished because nobody wants to have a bad boy around and if nobody wants him around then something will ha-

*blink*

Oh.

The blood was the first thing he noticed. Covering the grass and trees and his sword and cloak and _him, _it gave off the strong scent of copperandpainand_death, _invading his nostrils and forcing him to take a step back onto _him._

Or, at least, what is _left _of him, that is. The only thing that you can identify on this body as _his _is the ring on the fourth finger of his right hand, the one that marks him as a member of their organization.

Tenderly, he picked up the head (or arm, or leg, or heart, he can't really tell) of his idol. Holding the head…whatever it is, close to his face, he spoke to it.

"Are you going to be a good boy now?"


	17. Despicable

It's despicable, and he knows it.

This lust he feels for someone who is not even half his age, this _want _and _longing _and _need _that he feels _every_ goddamn day whenever he sees him. The craving he has when his _own _student looks up at him with those big eyes of his, so kind and yet so cruel as he innocently stands there with the other members of his team, not knowing the agony he puts him through when he teaches him a new technique and he is

Forced.

To.

Touch.

Him.

It hurts.

It hurts a lot, because the cravings that he feels can _never _be expressed in the ways that he wants it to, he can _never _show him how much he means to him, because it's wrongwrong_wrong _to feel anything of the sort towards _his own pupil. _

And he is cruel.

He admires him so much, wants to be just like him, even going so far as to mimic his own haircut and outfit, copying his own shouts and thumbs-up.

And he wants to tell him that no no no it's wrongwrong_wrong _to want to be like someone as _despicable _as himself, he can'tcan't_can't _act like him because that will make him want to have him moreandmoreand_more _until he won't be able to stand any of it anymore and-

He'll want to eat him alive.


	18. Moment

It's not his.

She can tell as soon as it's born that he is not the father. Sure, they _were _together and yes, they _had _spent several hours together, making love on her moonlit bed, but this child she has just given birth to _is not his. _

If he were still alive he would crushed.

The child has her red eyes, the eyes that many have mistaken for Sharingan and assumed that she was part of the clan that was so cruelly slaughtered many years ago, her black hair only added to that assumption. The shape of her child's face is also just like hers, round and child-like, a face that will never lose the baby-fat that it was born with. The tiny limbs, so fragile and weak, are slender and pale and smooth, just like her own.

But the hair…

The hair, which would be blackblackblack if it really were his, is instead a pale white that she _knows _will darken to silver as the child grows older.

Just like its father's.

She can faintly remember that night, when she and he had gotten into a fight over something stupid. Again. She had stormed out and had immediately gotten drunk at the nearest sake bar, not caring if she drank herself into oblivion. The rest of the night had passed in a blur, _him _walking into the bar, _him _carrying her back to her apartment, _him _asking her if she was alright, _him _thrusting into her while she mewled and moaned like a needy slut.

They both had avoided each other the next day, careful not to arouse suspicion from the others, and soon they both had forgotten about it.

The consequences of that night, however, could not be forgotten.

A few drinks and moment of insanity was all that it took to ruin everything that she ever had.

She wonders how she will tell him.

()()()()()()()()

Don't…flame me and tell me that I don't know anything. I know what Kurenai's child looks like. I know it has black hair. I know she and Kakashi were never together.

Just pretend, for plot convenience.


	19. Insane

There are so many things that people have called him throughout the course of his life.

"Spoilt," "rotten," and "idiot" were what his sensei had called him, frustrated with how he acted during training and lessons, often sending him outside the room or throwing things at him whenever he dozed off.

It's not his fault that he falls asleep, seeing as how what little rest he's able to garner between "work" and lessons is plagued with nightmares.

"Jerk," "rude," and "mean" are what his friends used to call him, upset when he wouldn't come out to play on their days off from training.

It's not his fault that he can't come out, seeing as how he is too sore to move his legs as a result of "work" the previous night.

"Slut," "whore," and "a good fuck" are what his customers at work used to call him, loving how far he can spread his legs for them and how many times he can take a dick in his ass in one sitting.

It's not his fault that he needs the money, seeing as how he is currently living by himself with no other source of income.

"Evil," "cruel," and "monstrous" is what everyone called him, after he defects from the village and blows up more than half of it.

It's not his fault that he has to leave, seeing as how the only way to get out of getting raped for one more night is to kill everyone who has ever fucked, or fucked with, him.

"Idiot," "brat," and "blondie" is what everyone in the Akatsuki used to call him, tired and fed up with all of his antics.

It's not his fault that he acts this way, seeing as how the only one even close to his age in the damn organization is the fucking Uchiha.

"You're insane!" the black-haired boy had screamed at him. "You are absolutely fucking insane!"

He had smiled, and slowly moved towards the younger boy, blood dripping from his mouth, staining the ground red.

Funny how the only person who had ever labeled him correctly was the very one he hated the most.

()()()()()()()()()

…Don't kill me. I didn't want to buy into the whole "Deidara was sexually abused" cliché, but I felt that it was necessary for this. Rape is not funny. It never will be.


	20. Chain

Like a chain, he couldn't escape.

Like a chain, he couldn't get free.

Like a chain, the only way to be relieved of it was to die.

So that's what he planned.

He waited, breath held, until the immortal man got close enough to him, close enough that he could smell the blood that covered the other man.

Then he whispered.

"Kill me."

The other man, lavender eyes dilated crazily, hesitated. Shouldn't he be cowering in fear? Or at least charging at him in anger?

Again, it is whispered.

"Kill me now."

And now the immortal man raises his scythe, but he can't seem to bring it down on him.

It doesn't…_feel _right, somehow.

But he cuts his own cheek with his kunai, and rubs some of the blood on the immortal man's blade.

"Go ahead. I _want _you to kill me."

The blood is sweet in the immortal man's mouth, and he shivers as he feels himself changing into his skeleton state, growling when he is unceremoniously shoved towards the symbol of his god by the very man who wants him to kill him.

Looking back at the man, he sees that the man is…

_Smiling._

The pike stabs right into his torso.

He lives.

He dies.

The chain is broken.

He is free.

()()()()()()()()()

…I don't know what I just wrote. This whole chapter is crap. I admit it.


	21. Emotionless

He was just there to hold a place for his parents.

A placeholder.

A replacement.

A gift, in a way. He was born to parents who went and got themselves killed, not even two years after his birth. His grandmother, so nice and sweet and caring and _kind _to him, began to change.

Slowly, at first. Usually, she just punished him when he did something particularly naughty, like go into her room and mess with her puppets. And even then, she only really sent him to the corner or had him make dinner that night.

And he couldn't help that he misbehaved.

After all, he was only five.

But then it began to change.

She began to punish him more harshly, spanking him for leaving his clothes on the floor, slapping him for asking a question, sending him to his room without food for asking about his parents.

Locking him in the closet when he asked her why she was doing this.

Well, he couldn't help that he was so curious.

He was only seven, after all.

His grandmother came home one night, reeking of booze, and followed by an old man, one that he has never seen before. He had looked up in curiosity at the older man, and had then gone back to playing with his little marionette, the one that his grandmother had taught him how to make a few weeks ago.

He loved that marionette.

He had screamed in anger when his grandmother had stepped on the marionette, crushing it into tiny pieces that he knew could never be put back together. He had clawed at her face, then whimpered in pain as the man's fist collided with his face and he heard the crunch of the bones in his nose.

He couldn't help that he didn't like pain.

After all, he was only nine.

The rest of the night passed in a blur for him, only able to recall a few things, like waking up in a dark room, and feeling the old man carry him to a bed.

Like feeling his clothes being torn off.

Like the man's dick being forced into his mouth.

Like the ripping, tearing, _searing _pain he felt when the man shoved himself inside of him.

When he had finally been able to get up from the bed, he had limped down the stairs to the kitchen, where he knew his grandmother would be.

"G-granny, _w-w-why _did that m-man do that to m-me last n-night?" he had looked up at her, tears pooling in his eyes.

She had looked back down at him, eyes unsympathetic and uncaring.

"Because you have been very naughty lately. Now shut up and clean yourself up. I have more…_friends _coming tonight, and I want to make it look like you have never been touched before."

He had complied, and what followed were years of tears and screams which grew into more years of dry eyes and silence, him keeping absolutely quiet as the men above him moaned and thrust deep inside of his body, them never apologizing when he collapsed after a particularly rough session. He was perfectly compliant, and never seemed to feel pain, not even when one customer came in drunk and forcibly penetrated him with a kunai.

No, he never seemed to feel it.

After all, his emotions had left, along with the rest of his human body.

"Another round, mister?"

"Ah, you do know how to spoil a man, Puppet!"


	22. Monster

It's all he ever was, really.

He had attacked other children in his village. He had destroyed countless buildings and rendered numerous people homeless. He had killed his own uncle, his only friend.

_He had killed his mother. _

And yet, they still wanted him to be the _leader _of their village? The one who was in _charge _of making sure that everyone was safe, and happy, and _alive?! _

How could _anyone _be safe if he couldn't control the monster inside of him?!

So he did what he had to do.

Arranging the whole thing was troublesome, but necessary for him to protect his people and village. He knew that one of his guards was a traitor, an agent for a mercenary group that had been terrorizing many of the surrounding villages, a group that, coincidentally, was after the kind of monster that he himself possessed.

Summoning the guard to his room, they stared at each other in silence before he spoke.

"Get it out of me."

The guard's eyes had widened, but he had bowed his head and strode out, only stopping at the door to look back at him.

"You can expect them tonight, Kazekage-sama."

So when the bird appeared outside his window, he immediately strode out of the room and up to the roof where he knew a member would be to take him.

He quietly snuck up to the young man, who seemed to sense his presence and whispered quietly.

"There are going to be people watching, so we have to put on a good show for them, un. Can you do that?"

He had nodded eagerly, and the young man smirked, immediately leaping onto his bird and taking off. He followed after, and after much fighting, the other man losing one of his arms in the process, he was forced to create his ultimate defense, the sand cocooning around him like a blanket.

His eyes widened in surprise when some of the clay creations of the other man burrowed through his sand, releasing a sweet smelling gas that he knew would knock him out. He felt himself falling, and the last thing he remembered before he woke up under another monster-child was the other man carefully catching him and setting him on his bird's tail.

"Let's get that monster out of you, un."

()()()()()()()()

…Jashin, this chapter sucked. And if you don't like it, too bad. I'm cranky, hungry, and they just changed my meds, so I'm not really thinking straight right now.


	23. Wind

She had always loved the wind.

There were several reasons why. For one, it calmed her, in a way, after hours upon hours of training, when her muscles were tired and screaming at her to stop or otherwise they would give out.

She would go up to the roof of their home, high enough so that she could see the entire village spread out beneath her, and she would sit. Sometimes she brought up a book to read, but most of the time she just watched the people beneath her.

She loved the wind for the reason that it refreshed her, when she was tired, or sleepy, or just plain out exhausted from watching over her youngest brother at night, making sure that his nightmares didn't take over his body again, or that he didn't go on another rampage, courtesy of the monster inside of him.

She also had to make sure that her other brother didn't try to kill their sibling at night again. It was a frequent thing, the elder growing so frightened of the younger's powers that he attempted to murder him at night. The plots were usually foiled by the monster in the child's body, but three months ago, she had heard a noise, and burst into the room to find her puppet-wielding brother with a knife pricking the younger's throat, his hand over his mouth to prevent him from screaming for help. The monster had finally allowed the child to sleep, and the eldest of the two boys had decided to take advantage of that.

"No!" she had screamed, and swung her fan, creating a huge gust of wind that had blasted the elder right out the window. Stumbling up to the youngest boy, she had been shocked to see that he was bleeding for the first time in his life. Quickly she had bound the wound and told him to lay back down again, promising that she would watch over him from now on.

That was the last time she had slept through the night.

After the incident, she had slept in her brother's room, waking at the slightest sound. She was just so tired now, between training and missions and guarding her youngest brother from whoever might attack him during the night. Yawning, she reached the rooftop and sat down in her usual spot. She laid her fan next to her in case someone stumbled upon her. Checking one last time for any onlookers, she began to do the one thing that nobody had ever seen her do.

There was one other reason that she loved the wind.

Nobody could hear her cry.


End file.
